


One

by itsparkerluck



Series: itsparkerluck’s irondad ficlets [3]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Hurt Tony Stark, Irondad, Tony Stark-centric, based off of the avengers: endgame trailer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 08:25:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16909530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsparkerluck/pseuds/itsparkerluck
Summary: It won’t be long before the oxygen runs out on the ship.Before that happens, Tony needs to leave one last message.Based off of the Avengers: Endgame trailer.





	One

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Один](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17393333) by [hellolilith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellolilith/pseuds/hellolilith)



 

 

 

 

 

_ "Hey Miss Potts. If you find this recording, don't feel bad about this. Part of the journey is the end. Just for the record, being adrift in space with zero promise of rescue is more fun than it sounds.  _

 

_ "Food and water ran out four days ago, and oxygen will run out tomorrow morning. When I drift off, I will dream about you. _

 

_ "It's always you." _

  
  
  
  
  


When he awakens once more, his eyes open to the same scene; the dark blue-green of the metal wall opposing him. A small screen in the top right corner is flashing, and through his blurred vision he can make out the red letters: LOW OXYGEN. A timer blinks right below, ticking ominously down from ten minutes.

 

He can't do much besides sigh resignedly. There’s no avoiding the inevitable. Help is not arriving. Tony should’ve submitted himself to his fate long ago.

 

Many times over, he’s considered killing himself. Just to get it over with. Then he wouldn’t have feel the painful hollowness in his belly, or the sand in his throat, dry from thirst. 

 

And many times over, he’s held the gun in trembling hands. Keeled over after a panic attack, the barrel cold against his forehead, safety off and finger toying with the trigger. And over and over again, he sets the gun down out of nothing but cowardly fear.

 

It would be easier, he had told himself,  _ begged  _ himself, but a small part of him still continued to stupidly cling to the small hope that someone, or some _ thing _ would come to rescue him.

 

Tony was a fool.

 

He plays with the hem of his shirt, rubbing the thinning fabric between his thumb and index finger. How stupid he was. If only he had told Peter to go back immediately, instead of letting him join in on the fight. If only he were stronger, strong enough to hold the Starlord guy back. 

 

Tony’s almost happy—and he hates himself for even thinking this, but—he’s almost happy that Peter’s dead. Then the kid wouldn’t have to breathe thinning air, or spend his days hungry and cold, or grow accustomed to alien space food, the kind that burns your tongue and makes you gag.

 

Dying sucks, of course, but at this point, Tony almost wishes that he had been taken too.

 

His eyes feel damp, and he blinks the wetness away.

 

He glances over at the flashing light again, and through his fuzzy vision, he can barely make out that the timer has just passed one minute.

 

Drawing in the air he can, he taps the helmet resting lifelessly in front of him and stares blankly at the exposed mechanical parts, at the empty glowing eyes, a broken remnant of what he once was.

 

"And one last thing—" His voice cracks, and he swallows with difficulty. "And one last thing before I go. I don't believe in miracles, but if what's left of our team manages to something, anything that lets the kid see the light of day again, I want you to tell him—"

 

His voice trails off. Tony lets his head fall backwards, thudding against the wall behind him. 

 

"I want to leave Stark Industries in his hands. I've never met a more capable young man, more deserving of everything I can give him.

 

"And tell him for me that he's so much more than he thinks he is."

 

He looks up at the timer, exhaling.

 

"I love you, both of you."

 

With trembling fingers, Tony turns off the helmet. He sits back and closes his eyes. He’s not scared anymore. With the past weeks spent on the verge of panic, the idea has faded to the back of his mind. Now, the only thing he feels is regret.

 

It can’t be that bad, he reasons. Sure his last moments will be spent struggling to breathe, but after that, it’ll just be a long, long sleep. Quiet and undemanding, like he’s always wanted.

 

Tony’s eyes flutter open briefly, weakly. Thirteen seconds. With a soft exhale, his eyes fall closed once more. He listens to the quiet ticking, counting down in his head.

 

There’s so much more he wants to say. For the first time in a while, he feels a warm wetness on his cheeks, contrasting the strange cold that’s spreading from his fingertips to the rest of his body.

 

His body relaxes, and his lips part. Tony begins to fall asleep.

 

In three,

 

two,

 

one.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank y’all for reading! lemme know your thoughts in the comments below, i live for comments ;;
> 
> my instagram’s @itsparkerluck, hmu there


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